


The King's Deceit

by ajonsatrashcan



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: After Season 7, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-27 06:45:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12075678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajonsatrashcan/pseuds/ajonsatrashcan
Summary: Jon Snow needed a way to save the North, and Sansa told him not be like his father. His father, Robb, the Starks, they were all honorable, and they died. His brothers, the Night's Watch, they killed him for honor. So, fuck it. This was his second chance, and what else was there to live for if not for family? He would do whatever takes, even if it means playing lover to a fire queen.Sansa Stark wanted to be the queen of Westeros, and her dreams left her alone and broken. The North was her last chance at happiness, and she would do anything to keep it. Even if it meant welcoming a foreign invader into their home; and sacrificing the only man she's ever loved to the dragons. Will the Starks be successful in their plight?





	1. Winterfell

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting on A03 ever, so any feedback would be appreciative!

Jon was almost to Winterfell, soon he would be home in the arms of his loved ones; he smiled at the thought, a warm feeling building up in the pit of his stomach, despite the chill of winter in the air. Jon shifted his attention ahead of him, the Dragon Queen rode just beyond them. After that night on the boat, they had yet to be intimate again, Daenerys wasn’t the most affectionate lover. She preferred to keep her distance, and Jon couldn’t help but feel relieved. However, he could always feel her staring at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, but how could he not? She was the fire queen, but her stares felt like shards of ice.

A chill rippled through him at the thought, and he tried to think of pleasant things. Like lemon cakes. They were his sister Sansa’s favourite food, but he had grown used to them over the years. Much to his surprise, he had grown a craving for them while they were in the South. He even had several dreams of eating them, and hoped Sansa had some made when he got home. 

“What are you thinking of?” Davos suddenly asked him, bringing Jon out of his trance. The older man was bundled up in furs thicker than Jon’s, he looked so heavy that the first time he saw him Jon wondered how he managed to stay balanced on his horse. 

“Lemon cakes.” Jon answered earnestly, and Davos gave him a look that said he was questioning Jon’s sanity.

“Lemon cakes?” Davos asked, cocking an eyebrow up in question. “Isn’t that Lady Sansa’s...” he trailed off, and Jon saw him roll his eyes, like he was saying a prayer to the gods.

“It’s her favorite food, yes.” Jon answered, his stomach growling this time.

“She still likes lemon cakes?” Lord Tyrion asked, a fond smile reached his lips. Jon had barely noticed the dwarf ride up beside them. 

“She does,” Jon was careful to keep his voice in neutral when he answered, he always got defensive when other people mentioned his sister, especially strangers.

“That excellent news,” Tyrion said, staring forward and Jon couldn’t see his facial expression. “I’m glad she’s still able to enjoy the little things in life, despite all that’s happened to her. I always thought she’d outlive us all.” Jon relaxed at that, realising that Tyrion meant well, and everyone fell into silence once again, focusing on the trail ahead; it was too cold to speak of anything else.

 Little specks of snow began to fall just as they reached the gates of Winterfell. Jon’s stomach began to turn, he couldn’t believe it, but he was actually nervous about seeing his family again. Especially Arya and Bran, he hadn’t seen them since before he left for the wall, when they were all children. A lot has changed since then, they were all different people now. Things had gone well between him and Sansa, so he knew he shouldn’t be this nervous, but he still was nonetheless.

“The King has returned,” the guards yelled upon seeing him walk through the gate. This caused a quite the commotion, as people crowded to see the return of their King, and then their gasps and whispers as they saw the silver haired queen who accompanied him. 

Once he was inside of the courtyard, he dismounted from his horse. He immediately began looking around for his siblings, nerves once again consuming him. 

“Jon!” He heard the happy cry of his youngest sister, who was running straight from him. He recognized the direction she was coming from, and realized she was coming from sword practice. A large grin plastered his face, and he held his arms out to her. When her arms found his, he thought his face would break in half from how wide he was smiling. Happiness was too weak of an emotion to explain how he felt in that moment. 

“I’ve missed you, little goose.” He said, laughing with happiness. Their eyes sparkled with joy, Jon could scarcely believe he was embracing his dearest sister once again. 

“And I you,” Arya said, hugging him tighter. He had always been her favourite brother, it was good to see each other again. They released each other, and Jon looked around for other members of his family. There was no sign of them. Daenerys took her place by Jon’s side, and he had to stop himself from groaning in annoyance. He had almost forgotten she was there, almost.

“Arya,” Jon said, his voice remaining cheerful, but it had lost some of it’s chirp. “This is Queen Daenerys.” He couldn’t be bothered with all of her titles, and to be honest he had forgotten most of them.  

“My queen,” he said, with the sweetest smile he could muster, “this is my sister Arya.”

“Hello,” Arya said, greeting the queen the way a highborn lady should, with a small curtsy so elegant and a genuine smile so pure, even Sansa would be proud. Daenerys returned the gesture with a small nod, and sweet smile as well. Jon then began barking orders, to get everyone settled, he had to put the Dothraki and Unsullied somewhere. He wished he knew where Sansa was, she would know what to do with them. She probably had something prepared, she always was. 

It was then, in the midst of the chaos, that Jon felt her presence behind him. He turned, to look for her, as he felt her fiery stare on his back, but saw nothing. His heart began pounding faster, and his nerves spiked once again. He looked up, and saw her looking down from the balcony. She smiled when their eyes met, and raised her hand in greeting. In a daze, Jon raised his in response, he wanted to run and embrace her once again, like they did at the Wall. But, Dany’s icey presence kept his feet planted in his spot. She wasn’t hostile, but Jon needed to stick to the plan, that meant not running to the Lady of Winterfell like a buffoon.

Sansa took over the orders, telling her people to go to and fro. Jon was right, she did have a plan. Soon, Jon was in his room, alone at last. Bran, he had learned, was not be be disturbed. He was with Sam Tarly, in a trance. It was just as well, Jon wasn’t sure how much more wild emotion he could take. He was supposed to be the quiet brooding one, not this mess. He was just tired; he needed a hot bath and some rest before the feast in celebration of his return. Sansa had prepared Daenerys’s room on the opposite side of castle, and Jon could rest at ease. At last he was home.


	2. Chapter 2

After he he had finished bathing, Sansa snuck into his room just he donned his clean clothes. 

“Sansa,” he said her name, startled. 

“Did you do it?” She asked, skipping their greetings, and jumping straight into the topic Jon never wanted to remember again.

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Jon replied, followed with a tired sigh. “Hello, and I missed you too.” He said, rather sarcastically. Sansa laughed, and smiled, her eyes were gentle as she crossed the room to embrace him. Jon breathed in her scent, lavender, it fit her perfectly. She moved to let go, probably impatient to discuss strategy, but Jon stopped her and pulled her tighter. Aside from this castle, she was the only normal thing in his life, and he needed her. 

Before he had left Winterfell, they had discussed his meeting the Dragon Queen.

 

_ “She’s going to demand you declare fealty to her, you know?” Sansa had said, they were in her quarters, after the meeting with the Lords of the North. She had just asked him if it would “be so terrible” for him to start listening to her. So, he did. She still didn’t want him to go south, but they had come to a compromise. He wouldn’t come back empty handed. _

_ “What if she doesn’t agree to help us?” Jon asked, and Sansa pondered the question. He wasn’t sure how long she was quiet, because Jon was lost in the detail of her. He realized that if he went, there was a chance he wouldn’t come back. Even though he vowed to return, for her sake if nothing else, he didn’t want to forget even one stray hair on her head.  _

_ “You’ll have to seduce her then, keep her emotionally involved in your cause.” Jon was stunned. Seduce the Dragon?  _

_ “No, Sansa--” he began to protest, but Sansa grabbed his hand, silencing the words that had began to form at his lips. Her blue gaze meeting his, staring into his soul. _

_ “Promise me, Jon. You’re the King in the North, do it for the North. Do it for our family’s survival.” She said, pausing to lick her lips. “Do it for me. You must come back with the Dragon queen, we need her on our side if we hope to defeat the enemy.” Jon heart thumped in his chest, but he didn’t release Sansa’s hand. He looked down, rolled his thumb over Sansa’s, contemplating. He didn’t know anything about love, and the Targaryen was no wildling, he didn’t even know how to seduce her. He had nothing to offer. _

_ “How?” he asked quietly, and Sansa smiled.  _

_ “With patience, and some push and pull. Girl’s like a challenge. Don’t throw yourself at her, act aloof, and show only a bit of kindness here and there about sensitive topics. And if you wait long enough, once she’s in a vulnerable state, swoop in and make her yours.” Sansa finished, and Jon looked again, her gaze stunned him. He wondered if she knew how much control she had over him, it was because of her that they had made it this far.  _

_ “Alright,” Jon agreed. Before he left, he had to to go father’s crypt and ask for forgiveness. This was beyond wrong, he needed guidance, but as the gods as his witness, he wouldn’t fail Sansa. _

 

“Jon, are you alright?” She asked him, he was still holding her. He finally released her, and met her worried eyes. He really shouldn’t be this clingy, but he couldn’t help it. He had lost all honor in the South, all for his family, and while he didn’t regret it, he did mourn the lose of his dignity. He was sure everyone in the North knew by now, what he did to get that woman here. What he will continue to do until the war is won. 

He smiled at Sansa, he wanted to savor this moment between them. They would probably never be alone like this again; they had their family back, now they had to defend it.

“Lord Baelish is gone,” Sansa said softly, looking at a loose string on Jon’s shirt at the collar. She reached to remove it, giving it a gentle tug. Jon listened tentatively, giving her time to collect herself. “Arya and Bran, they took care of him. It was quite. . . strange, I think. Having someone besides, Brienne, and you on my side.”

Jon sighed, and embraced the girl once again. She hugged him back, and for sometime, they just engulfed each other in peace and reassurance.

“I can’t stand her,” Jon said, referring to the Queen with many titles. “She thinks everything belongs to her by birthright, she thinks that somehow her struggles set her apart from the rest-- and that she’s fancy.”

“I know, but we need her. You need to keep up this ruse, just until the war is won.” Sansa responded, she rubbed his back, hoping it was somehow comforting.

“What about after the war then, she has dragons.” Jon said, pulling away to look at Sansa. She reached for his hands, and squeezed them tight.

“We’ll figure it out when we get to that point,” Sansa said, reassuringly. Jon sighed, and she cocked her head to one side curiously, something she only did around Jon, and he felt his heart flutter.

“I just thought you always had something planned,” he laughed, and Sansa smiled.

“Oh I always do, eventually.” She retorted, and they both smiled. Sansa had to leave to see to the feast preparations, “get some rest, we still have a long journey ahead of us. Oh, and Bran says he has something he needs to discuss with you. He might seem strange at first, but believe me, his visions are true. Sleep well, sweeting. Someone will wake you in a few hours”     

Jon watched her leave, and a little piece of his confidence left with her. There were times that he questioned if his love for his sister were more than platonic, but as always, he shoved those feelings and thoughts into the back of his subconscious. They were on the brink of life and death, there wasn’t much time to contemplate his less than holy feelings for Sansa Stark. Not only that, but he had to pretend he was madly enthralled with the Targaryen wench. 

His second life was proving to be interesting, to say the least. Jon wandered over to his bed, and plopped down. Before he drifted into sleep, he wondered if there would be lemon cakes at the feast. 


	3. Making an Entrance

Sansa closed the door to Jon’s room quietly, she took a moment to lean her back against the the wood. She was tired, but the battle had just begun. She must of stayed there for a good two or three minutes before gathering the energy to head towards the kitchens and check on meal preparations. She was the Lady of Winterfell, this was one of the most important dinners of her career, everything needed to be perfect.

As she walked through the halls of her childhood home, she had flashbacks of when the entire family was together. A warm feeling began to grow in her chest as she thought of it. It was nice to have the remaining Starks at home, they were stronger this way. She had faith that with Jon here, they would all be safe in the end. She wanted nothing more than for her family to be safe and happy, now she had to get there. She didn’t feel guilt for Daenerys, she couldn’t afford too. That was one of the best things she learned from Cersei; only family matters, the rest can burn in any of the seven hells.

“My lady, it’s been awhile.” Sansa paused, she had been so absorbed in her own thoughts she hadn’t even seen Tyrion approach. “Did you miss me terribly?”

“Lord Tyrion,” she said, and laughed. “It feels like a lifetime.”

“Quite,” he said, and he smiled. “Look at you, the Lady of Winterfell. I knew you’d go far, you were always a resilient child.”

“I was, and I had an excellent husband to guide me during those early days,” she said, causing him to smile. He had a nice smile, she observed, though she had been distant from him, she had always been thankful for his kindness.

“I’m glad there’s no bad blood between us,” he said, Sansa heard a note of relief in his voice. “Truthfully, I had always wondered what happened to you. It’s good to see you thriving.”

“Yes. And I you, my lord. You’ve also come far, the hand of the mother of dragons, I’ve been told.” Sansa said, careful not to call Daenerys Queen, and she Tyrion take note of her choice of words.

“Yes, well, we’ll have to exchange tales sometime soon. For now, I believe you have duties to attend to.” He said, giving her a chance to excuse herself.

“I do, and yes, we must catch up.” Sansa said, and Tyrion bowed.

“My lady,” he said, and gave a kind smile when he looked up.

“My lord,” she said with a small curtsy, like they did in the Southern court. It had been a long time since she dipped like that. The Northerners preferred a nodd, and here she was the just short of a queen. They bowed to her, their equivalent of a queen.

 They parted ways, and this time Sansa actually heard the thump of footsteps as he walked away. She internally sighed as she continued to the kitchens. Her thoughts were now occupied with the ghosts of her past, and she cringed as she tried to shoo them away.

 

When Jon woke up, there was a warm body next to him. He sat up, startled, but grinned when he realized it was just Ghost. Last time he had seen the wolf, he had told the animal to watch over the Starks in Winterfell.

He rubbed the wolf’s belly, and Ghost panted. Jon smiled, he had missed this animal. He laid back down to rest a few minutes more, he wasn’t ready to face them again so soon, he just wanted a few moments of peace. Sansa had taken Father and lady Stark’s old quarters, despite protesting. So Jon took her old room, it seemed wrong to take his other siblings old rooms. He still felt a sense of lost when he thought of Robb, they had been so close, but the Young Wolf had died before his time. Jon was brooded over the thought, and Ghost whimpered in sympathy, which caused Jon’s lip to switch up.

“You know me better than anyone, don’t you boy?” He said, petting the animal’s head. Before long, Jon forced himself up. He couldn’t sleep through dinner, leaving Sansa to fend for herself against the dragon lady. He went to his wardrobe, and saw that Sansa had made him new cloak. It look identical to the first one she made him, but the effort made Jon feel warm. He couldn’t help the grin that plastered onto his face. He dressed in a grey tunic, and black tights; an outfit quite similar to what father had always worn. Sansa’s handiwork was excellent, as per usual.

Jon felt like he had just put of a suite of armor, and he knew his father’s spirit was with him. Maybe even lady Stark, and Robb were watching over him too, he hoped. After the Battle of the Bastards, and Rickon’s death, he had promised them he’d do whatever it took to protect the remaining Starks. So, with a prayer to his fallen family, he left the safety of his room to seek out Sansa. He needed to know the plan before they sat down for dinner.

 

“Sansa,” Jon called, knocking on her door. The air on this side of the castle was brisk, Jon was thankful for his new cloak. He made a mental note to look into making this side of the castle warmer someday, especially with winter on the way. He waited for a bit before rapping on the door again, this time Sansa opened right away.

“Sorry, I was just finishing my hair.” She said, and then she smiled when she noticed Jon’s outfit. “Oh, that looks marvelous!” She said, admiring her own work. Jon felt a small flush heat up his face, and he prayed to the gods it didn’t look noticeable. He wasn’t sure what it was about this Stark girl, but she had an effect on him.

“You look…” he said, taking her in, a little loss for words. “Stunning.”

Sansa smiled, a toothy grin, not her usually closed mouth smile she showed strangers to be polite; but an actual smile. Jon’s heart began to beat faster in his chest, and he had to compose himself. “Thank you, Jon. Honestly, I was feeling nostalgic earlier. I’ve been trying to get this outfit right for a while, but do you think it looks like something mother would wear?”

“It does, you look exactly like her. Even you hair, I think you captured her essence extremely well.” He said, causing Sansa to beam happily. They took a moment, to savor the moment, neither speaking, just enjoying each other’s company, their last moment alone before reuniting with their siblings.

They had gotten so close when they first reunited. The last two Starks in Winterfell, and while they were happy to see Bran and Arya, they both knew things would be different now. Sansa broke the silence first, “well then, shall we?”

“There’s no avoiding it,” Jon said. “But what’s the plan?”

“Just follow my lead.” Sansa answered giving him a sympathetic smile. “Just remember, Daenerys is the key to winning the war. Keep her invested in this.”

“Invested. Right.” That was easier said than done, and he hoped his acting would be enough to convince her and everyone else, that he was completely devoted to her.

With that, they left for the hall.

“What about Bran and Arya?” Jon asked as they walked, their footsteps echoing down the corridor. Many of their family tapestries had been destroyed by the Bolton’s, and the hall was unusually bare. He wondered why Sansa hadn’t replaced anything yet.

“They’ll soon join us,” Sansa replied, the pair walking side-by-side.   

“Why are the walls so bare? I was gone for a few months, I thought you would have had these wall redecorated by now.” Jon asked another question, and Sansa looked at him with melancholy.

“It’s not that I didn’t want too, but funds are so tight, I thought it would be better to wait until after the war. I took what was left, and used them in the important parts of Winterfell, like the dining hall.” She said, and Jon understood.

“I see,” he hadn’t thought about that. Normally he didn’t notice these things, but today he was extra observant; probably because he hadn’t been home in a long time. They finally arrived, and Sansa stopped them before they entered.

“Wait,” she said, and she fixed Jon’s cloak and belts. “Everything has to be perfect. This entrance is vital.” She explained, and Jon didn’t complain. He liked the attention.

“Okay,” she then motioned for the guard to announce their arrival. “Use, ‘the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.’”

 

“The Lord and Lady of Winterfell,” a guard announced their arrival, his voice bellowing through the hall. Lord Tyrion looked up, they weren’t the last to arrive, leave it to Daenerys to make a statement. He knew she had someone watching for them, she wanted to the last one to the party. He watched a Dothraki warrior leave the room when Jon arrived, and Tyrion wondered how it was all to play out.

Ever since that night when Jon and Daenerys began their love affair, he knew it was destined to fail. Jon Snow was the King in the North. They would not accept the Dragon as their ruler. And yet, the duo had been announced as the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. Tyrion knew this was a power play, but he couldn’t figure out Jon’s angle.

Jon took his spot at the head of the table, Sansa sat to his right; the second most important chair in the room. The seat to his left was open for Daenerys. This too was a power play, and one well thought out. Would Daenerys realize that she was being placed below Sansa? Tyrion wasn’t sure how such thing worked in Essos, and he had never explained this part of etiquette to his queen.

He was placed next to Daenerys as her hand, so he had a pretty good view of the Northern lords who sat around them. He observed them whisper as Jon and Sansa got settled into their seats.

“I suspect you rested well, lord Tyrion?” Jon asked, striking up a conversation. Tyrion nodded.

“Very well, I must thank her ladyship for the arrangements, I’m quite comfortable.” Tyrion replied, and Sansa smiled politely.

“My pleasure,” she said, and Tyrion noticed Jon shift in his chair uncomfortably. Tyrion had noticed that Jon always got grouchy around Sansa, and he had to wonder if there was some sort of sibling rivalry there.

“Lord Bran, and Samwell Tarly,” the same guard who announced Jon and Sansa’s arrival bellowed again. “Lady Arya Stark.”

The trio entered the room, the Tarly boy was pushing Bran, while Arya walked ahead of them. Neither of them sat at the head table, but took the one in the front closest to their siblings.

“Bran,” Jon said, a look of joy crossing his face. He got up from his seat to greet his only living brother, “and Sam, you’re here too!”

Tyrion watched the exchange with mild interest, a servant girl refilled his cup with wine, he noted that it was imported from the South. Sansa had really planned this dinner to a perfection, and he was very thankful because the North was not famous for their selection of grand wines.

“You look nice Sansa,” Arya said, once they were seated. “Just like mum.” Tyrion’s head shot up from his wine glass this time. That’s why they looked so familiar, a sudden realization dawned on him. The lords mumbled, and Tyrion knew Arya had been instructed to say that. This entire dinner was a play, not for Daenerys’s sake, but for the Northern lords. Tyrion narrowed his eyes, what was Jon Snow planning?

Was he truly devoted to Daenerys? Was this part of his plan to get the North to accept her? What was happening right here before his eyes?

 

From the corner of the room, Devos watched the exchange with chilling discomfort. He had suspected that something was going on with the King in the North for months. He got touchy when Sansa was brought up by another man, and now Sansa had just announced them as the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.

They looked exactly like Sansa’s parents, and were both seated in the most important seats of the room. He didn’t like the direction this story was going, because it was probably going to end in chaos.

He even noted the Northern Lord’s reactions when Jon and Sansa walked in, and he could tell they liked what they saw. How would they react to Jon calling a foreign invader “My Queen.”

  
“Announcing Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons,” Missandei’s voice rang clear throughout the great hall. Jon froze, and braced himself for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a set schedule or anything, but I'll try to update as much as possible! Thank you to everyone for all the support! If you want to follow me for updates you can follow my twitter @pony_winters and I'm also on tumblr @ajonsatrashcan thanks all!


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